


Seekers who are Lovers

by thinskinnedcalciumsipper



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 04:32:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3343778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinskinnedcalciumsipper/pseuds/thinskinnedcalciumsipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>self-indulgent love story written with a cocteau twins album lol</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seekers who are Lovers

A long time ago, when spring first flowered into barbarous summer -- it was the first summer of his life he had ever really suffered from, his first summer so far south -- when the corn which bordered the long, lonely roads was glowing gold, growing until it ruptured the seams of its cauls, when the first swallow nests in the violet shadows of the rafters were coming up abandoned, and the sun grew heavy, rosy and slow, in the dust-encrusted yard of the fort he was delivered to one uncomfortably warm morning, there amongst the bolts of sunbeams and milling human men, he saw it. It was impossible to not see. It had no face.

Sagacity itself, he discerned instantly it was young, compact, somewhat small, strong, physically, especially in its trunk, and that it was not quite right -- it weaved a little, looking all about, incessantly fidgeting, it shied from every friendly gesture he saw posed to it-- and, as he would come to see, it absolutely would not be seen -- but that was all. He could not even estimate its sex, and it disturbed him.

He went about to shake hands with his colleagues, each in turn -- largely impressing him only in their girth and odors -- he introduced himself by his profession, as he had been instructed to do, and smiled winningly, and spoke beautifully, offered his fine cigarettes, offered thin and tasteful compliments, and each seemed suitably impressed with him, but that one...

It sat aside from niceties, outside the throng, on the earth, in the dirt, in a bed of threadbare daisies growing against the hip of the dilapidated barn they were expected to inhabit, looking in its bizarre rubber vestments very peculiar, very bad.

When he approached, it looked up at him, but did not stand -- did not seem to even consider intercepting the open palm he offered. It seemed apathetic to his beautiful clothes, his beautiful manners -- it would only look at him.

He was proud. This rebuff, though he intuited unintentional, burned him as explicit disdain could not.

He withdrew his hand. He found a cigarette in his breast pocket, arranged it and his mouth around his gritted teeth into a charming smile, nodded to it, and found some inane current of conversation to cover his retreat, to conceal him. It was his specialty, after all.


End file.
